


Wicked Desideratum

by banana_thief



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Dorian Pavus, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Public Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 02:26:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9798359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banana_thief/pseuds/banana_thief
Summary: After the events of Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts. An outdoor quickie with the Inquisitor Jarith and Dorian.





	

Wicked Desideratum

  

_Winter Palace, Halamshiral. Nightfall:_

 

         Dorian nodded to a sultry, shadowy woman passing him as he ambled outside onto the balcony.

         “There was an ancient dowager looking for you. Said she had twelve daughters! I told her you left already,” Dorian said straightening out his sleeves, as he approached Jarith from behind. “You can thank me later. Or now,” he said, leaning over the railing, stealing a glance at the Inquisitor. “But you look lost in thought. Something on your mind?”

         “I’m just worn out. Tonight has been...taxing,” Jarith said with a lour.

         Dorian chuckled and pinched his mustache. “You won! You saved the day. Literally, the day is saved. You should be celebrating! Enjoy yourself while you can.”

         Jarith said nothing as he stared at the hazy mountains surrounding the palace.

         Dorian smiled. “What you need is a distraction. I have just the thing: let’s dance.” He offered his hand to the Inquisitor.

         Jarith smirked, took the Altus’s hand, his almond shaped eyes virtually sparkling. “I was hoping you’d ask.”

         The two men joined each other, fingers locking, bodies close.

         Dorian smiled and said playfully, “Thank goodness one of us has a little initiative.”

 

 

         Jarith was under the impression that the ball would have concluded by now. But it only gained momentum, wine flowed, gossip ensued, music elevated, and candles dimmed in their crystal confinements.

         “These Orlesians...” Jarith said under his breath.

         “Oh?” Dorian mused, and nudged the Inquisitor’s shoulder with his own. “Do I sense a bit of disdain? Is the Belle of the Ball not enjoying himself?”

         Jarith frowned. “Dorian...”

         “You saved an empress, and now she’s eating out of your hand. Perfect mental image.” Dorian swiped up a goblet from an elven server’s tray. The two men stood at the apex of the grand staircase, watching the whirl of silk and lush, colored fabrics glide across the polished ballroom floors. “All this dancing, politics, and murder...” Dorian released a dreamy, theatrical sigh, “makes me a bit homesick.”

         Jarith smiled, albeit dejectedly. He touched his face, traced a tattooed line near his chin. Dorian grabbed his hand.

         “To hell with them,” he whispered. “Why do you care what these inbred bastards think?”

         “I don’t actually. I just...think of what could be,” Jarith said, relishing the warm grasp of the Magister.

         Dorian simpered, wishing his smile would improve Jarith’s mood. “Amatus. Don’t. You’re beyond them.”

         The two felt incredibly close. Intimate. Were all eyes on them? Were gloved hands covering whispers? They didn’t care. To save Jarith the hassle of having to explain himself to anyone later, Dorian made a show of pulling the Inquisitor even closer. His grey eyes burned with something familiar.

         “Stairwell to the lower garden,” he whispered near Jarith’s ear. “You have fifteen minutes.”

         It sent shivers through the elf’s body. Jarith was speechless as he watched the mage walk away, his head tilting back to drain the remains of his goblet.

 

        

         “I do love that outfit on you,” Dorian said, tweaking his mustache out of habit, a steely look in his eyes.

         Jarith laughed. “We’re wearing the same thing.” Pointing out their matching red dress coats, accented with yellow, and finished with blue silken sashes.

         “Yes. But I already know I look good in this.”

         Jarith couldn’t deny that. He shivered again—unsure if it was due to the chill in the air or the devious look Dorian was providing him. He could never tell if the Altus wanted to kill him, vex him, or fuck him. Dorian smirked, and Jarith wondered if he said that aloud.

         The mage grabbed the Inquisitor’s hand and led him out to the secluded garden. It was situated dangerously on a cliffside, resulting in a frightening yet breathtaking view of the mountainscape. Jarith glanced at Dorian, the mage was also frightening yet breathtaking.

         He watched as Dorian walked along the edge, his arms folded across his solid chest, he peered over and Jarith felt his hands perspire.

         “Do you know what my greatest fear is?” Dorian asked suddenly, not looking back. He didn’t wait for an answer, “Temptation.”

         Jarith swallowed hard. “I suppose that could be bad.”

         “Only when there’s a lot at stake,” Dorian said, his tone flat. “Amatus.”

         “Yes?” Jarith inched over, making sure to keep his eyes leveled. The wind felt severe. He refused to look downward.

         “I’m in love with you.”

         The blood drummed in Jarith’s ears. He couldn’t tell if it was terror or excitement that quickened his pulse. “I feel the same.”

         Dorian didn’t look at him. “The nonsense you say.”

         “But I do feel the same, ma sa’lath.”

        “The things you say,” Dorian whispered, as his pretty eyes caught the Inquisitor’s. “Sweet Maker, you’re gorgeous.”

         “Me?” Jarith laughed. He pulled the Magister away from the precarious ledge, and hugged him. The two kissed, lax at first, heated soon after as their tongues pushed through soft lips. Jarith felt his cheeks warm, a familiar stir between his thighs. He groaned, pulling away. “I can’t. We can’t...”

         “You can do whatever you want Herald of Andraste. By all means...” Dorian purred, snaring Jarith’s bottom lip between his teeth.

         Jarith growled, a particular something intensifying within him, overwhelming him. The clean, deep spicy scent of Tevinter incense on Dorian’s skin drove Jarith mad with desire. The grass susurrated under their boots as they ravaged each other.

         “Take me,” Dorian begged softly, forcing his body against the elf.

         The Inquisitor dropped to his knees, hands deftly unfastening Dorian’s slacks. He pulled his hot, firm cock out and gave it a long-drawn-out lick, making sure to keep eye contact with his Altus.

         Dorian’s head fell backwards. “Fasta vass!”

         Jarith smirked; Tevene words from him were always a favorable outcome. He slid his mouth completely over Dorian’s cock, relishing the feel of his ringed fingers scrapping against his scalp, gripping his head. He slurped up and down, mindful of being vulgar, which he knew Dorian enjoyed.

         “Keep that up and I’ll...” Dorian panted, his utterance fading.

         Jarith could taste his precum, he swirled his tongue over the tip, savoring the taste and smell of his mage. His hands slid all over his muscular, thick thighs, and cupped his round ass.

         “More. I need more, amatus,” Dorian pleaded in his own way. His voice still had a tinge of smugness, a hard habit to break.

         The Inquisitor released Dorian’s cock with a loud pop. His fingers traced their way upward, unbuttoning along the way.

         “The skilled hands of a rogue,” Dorian complimented, allowing himself to be undressed.

         “You have no idea,” Jarith teased as he stood, his calloused palms sliding across Dorian’s firm, smooth chest.

         “I have a feeling I’ll find out tonight.”

         “Here and now?” Jarith tempted. He could think of nothing else at this moment, only of Dorian’s bronzed skin, the heat from his body, his sweat. Maker! He pulled Dorian onto the grass and quickly straddled him. The two kissed, further titillated by their lewd, sloppy sounds. Jarith trailed kisses down the mage’s neck, and licked along his collarbone.

         Dorian moaned long and low, he arched his back as the Inquisitor pinched his nipples. He lolled his head side to side, as Jarith palmed him, shifting his foreskin in an oh-so-delicious way. The thought of some nosey noble blushing under their mask as they watched the two men delighted him—turned him on. He moaned louder as Jarith returned his mouth over his cock.

         Jarith made sure to keep it wet and messy, his saliva smeared over his swollen lips as he pleasured Dorian. He sucked a finger and eased it into the mage’s ass. Startled to find it well lubed, he shot a look up at Dorian, who chuckled. Jarith shook his head and smiled at his lover’s unashamed preparedness. He lapped away as his fingers worked, as he primed his mage.

         “It’s not fair,” Dorian sighed. “I’m practically on display.”

         “Don’t you like that?” Jarith asked playfully as he sat up, unbuttoning his coat revealing lean, tanned and taut muscles. He pulled his slacks down just enough to free his stiff cock, his ass now exposed to the wind. He slid his now oiled fingers up and down his shaft, trembling at the sensation.

         Dorian watched him hungrily, propped by his elbows, chest heaving with need. “Do be gentle.”

         Jarith released a lazy, lustful laugh, and grabbed the Altus’s hips; he positioned his tip, groaning at the hot slickness kissing it. He entered, unable to hold back an Elven curse as he buried himself deep inside Dorian.

         The mage melted, he slumped, and tightened his ass around Jarith. He loved the feeling of being penetrated, especially by this man. The Inquisitor was unaware of how dashing he truly was, which in turn made him so irresistible to Dorian. The mage moaned as he allowed himself to be handled, bent, and fucked. His auburn haired rogue looked glorious. His toned chest bare and glassy with sweat, hair disheveled, eyes closed, his face a portrait of erotic focus. His holy Herald of Andraste looked perfectly unholy. The Altus groaned in approval.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this. I left this unfinished (yet pretty standalone), but if there's enough interest I can conclude it.


End file.
